Anonymous
by Fadingsummer
Summary: Chris D'Amico is a lonely high school boy with a big crush on Dave Lizewski, and just doesn't know what to do with it. Basically this is just the movie, but with a few... added scenes. ; About what it really means to wear a mask.
1. 1 Stand Alone

1

Pretending not to see him was a difficult thing to do.

He knew his bodyguard would tell him to go away before he had even got a chance to tell him it was okay. He had instructed him not to let any of the nerds get near him, after all. But when he saw him in that corner of his, with those friends of his, and all of a sudden he was looking at him, and they were all looking at him, Chris was torn between looking up from the comic he was browsing through and tell his bodyguard it was alright, and remaining perfectly still, ignoring the boy with the big glasses. But before he could decide, he noticed Dave was attempting to get closer to him, shyly, but bravely.

Don't look at him, he thought, as he tried to make out what was written on the page he was looking at right now. POW, it said, and K-THUNK. Chris stared at the letters as long as he thought was necessary, and only looked up after the group of geeks had left the building.

It was only the 47th time he had done this. At school, in the hallways, at the parking lot, in the cafetaria, Chris walked or sat around, pretending to be reading the same comics he knew those guys were reading. He had liked superhero comics ever since he was a small boy, but he had to admit he was buying them now solely to know what they were reading. And maybe to provoke one of them into talking to him. This was the first time that had actually happened, and where Chris should have been friendly and interested, he had sent them away, indirectly. What kind of a message would that have been to the comic geeks? And to Dave?

After paying for a bunch of new comics, getting a drive home and locking the door to his bedroom behind him, Chris fell face-forward on his bed, closing his eyes. It had been a long day at school, and judging by the large clock on his wall, it was already half past five. His homework was scattered all over the floor, but his comics were all on bookshelves, neatly organized. Dave now was the only thing on his mind. The look in his big blue eyes as he had awaited judgement from the great Chris D'Amico. How he wished he had answered that look, so he could remember it more clearly now. Why did he have to be such a stupid moron? He could've talked to Dave Lizewski today. Who knows what could've happened, but none of it had, because he was an idiot. No wonder his dad was reluctant to invite him to one of his business meetings. No wonder he was never allowed to go somewhere on his own.

Chris sighed deeply. 'You're a moron,' he whispered to himself and turned to his side.

See, you don't know what Dave Lizewski looks like when he's wearing his gym shorts, or how he tries to do push-ups. You have never seen him in maths class, staring all dreamily out of the window. You have no idea how many times Chris has caught himself openly staring at him, or how many times he has cried alone in his room because he didn't know what to do or feel. He had been confused out of his mind ever since he took a good look at Dave and the comic he was reading. He had never noticed the soft, friendly eyes behind his glasses, or the big mess of curls his hair was in, but the moment he did, he had been unable to think of anything else. In the darkness of his room at night, the same images had flashed before his eyes over and over again, in a dream he knew would never be reality. Trying to forget about him, or trying to focus on his school work or being a good son, never had worked. He had gone through his dream every evening, from start to finish, leaving him shuddering and alone. As a result, he couldn't sleep as well as he used to, and everything he had ever viewed as normal and right didn't seem so good anymore. He drank four cups of coffee everyday, but his Dave-fantasies returned to him, bigger and more inescapable every time they did.

He would imagine talking to Dave, and hearing his voice as he answered him. Mentally, he would go over the clothes he had seen him wear and would pick an outfit for him. Chris liked clothes. Sometimes he would stop before the window of a shop when he saw something he thought would look good on Dave.

In the beginning, the three comic nerds were usually together, and Chris seemed to be one of them. They would be in the school cafetaria, reading comics over each other's shoulders, and talk about stuff. Dave would cast small looks at him while they were talking, and when Chris made him blush a little, his favourite warm and fuzzy feeling would spread everywhere in his body. After school, they would go somewhere together. The exact place was unimportant.

Somewhere nobody would even think of disturbing them (mostly the anonymous place changed into the room he was in right now), Chris would put his lips to Dave's unexpectedly, while they were sitting side by side on the bed, exchanging comic books. His imagination was so strong in this part that he could practically feel Dave's warm lips against his, and see his eyelashes in HD detail. Or feel his breath to his skin. Unconsciously, Chris would slightly open his mouth as Dave's tongue entered his mouth in his dream; and when he heard Dave moan softly, he would do the same. Chris would stop their kiss for a moment to see how Dave was sitting on his bed, a bit of red on his cheeks, gorgeous and drop-dead beautiful as always. Then, he would let Dave jump on him, feeling his hands on his back, and slowly, Dave would loosen his buttons while kissing his neck. They would be pressed together so tightly he could feel every muscle underneath his clothes. It was usually that moment that Chris started touching himself, hidden between his covers, almost dying of shame. How could he believe this would ever really happen? How could an unattractive loser like him... ever...

'Chris,' he would make Dave whisper, the moment they were both shirtless and Chris was underneath him and was trying to unbutton Dave's pants (because yeah, he would definitely do that if he would ever find himself in that position). 'I can't believe this is happening.'

'Am I going too fast?'

'No, no.'

Time and time again, Chris would gasp as the Dave in his mind looked up to him with a small smile, and whispered 'Let's do it.'

'Yes,' Chris would answer, out of breath, his heart beating like a madman.

'I've always wanted to do it with you. I'll be nice. I don't want to hurt you...'

'Yes, fuck me, please,' Chris whispered out loud, feeling like the biggest loser on the planet, but unable to stop now. He knew things would be quick now, and vague. Dave would turn him around after pulling down his pants and push him to his own bed. After a bit of lubrication (he had to keep this at least a little realistic) he would groan as Dave entered him and repeat that everytime he felt him slam into him again. Trying as hard as he could to block out the thought of what he really was and how this was the most terrible thing a guy could _ever_ do, trying to forget the burden that was forever on his shoulders; he would hear Dave moan in his mind, and himself along with him, his pitch a bit higher. He bit his pillow as he came, both in real life as in his dream, and he would slowly calm down. But his fantasy still continued a little bit, and that was the part that had made him cry so often.

'I love you,' Dave would say softly, while still regaining his breath. Turning around on Chris's bed, they would hold each other tightly, this thought sending butterflies all over his stomach. Dave's lips were slightly swollen, and sweat was shining on his forehead. He would smile. Chris would smile back, and alone, he would sob quietly in his pillow. He could never have him, and it would never happen. And on top of that, Chris had realized he was attracted to boys, and he would never be taken seriously if anyone were to find out. In every afterglow, his heart sank to the deepest low he had ever known, and he tried to sleep, curled up in his bed.


	2. 2 On Your Own

2

The buzz in the hallways was something he didn't pay attention to that often, but that day, it was impossible to ignore. The only person who seemed unaware of all the chatter behind his back was, in fact, the man himself; and Chris had no clue whether he felt sorry for him or he was just superafraid the same thing might happen to him. Either way, he had heard the details about what had happened to him. Everyone had been asking questions to the other two dudes, and Chris had stepped to them and had joined the rest. It was the first time he had ever spoken a word to them.

'When will he be back?'

The blonde one had shrugged. 'Next Monday, next Tuesday.'

'So he will be okay?'

'Yeah, I guess so.'

Chris had stayed around for a moment to hear what the others had to ask. Mostly, they wanted inquiries about the amount of blood Dave had lost, or the seriousness of his injuries. Chris cringed, visualising some guy kicking in that face. How could he just be standing here? He wanted to go to the hospital, buy him some strawberries- would that be too gay? Maybe a card would be better? In the midst of his thinking, he overheard a couple of girls discussing how hate crimes were happening more and more often in the neighbourhood. One of them mentioned, under her breath, how she had always thought Dave looked like a guy that would get beaten up in a hate crime. Chris's heart- he didn't know what was happening to it exactly. It had a shock that sent sudden relief through his veins. Then it fell down again in deep sympathy, but before it hit the bottom, it would shoot back into the sky, where it remained. The tension in his body was so strong, he hardly noticed himself walking to class and turning a pen around in his hands. His head was in a mess even as he went back home.

_Dave, _he scribbled on a card he had bought in a store close to his apartment. How to go on from there? He shut his eyes for a moment, then wrote the rest. _Hang in there. You can do it._

Leaving it unsigned, he made one of his dad's men deliver it at the hospital. He didn't know the state Dave was in right now, but he was just hoping he would read it soon, wondering where it came from. Wow...he could hardly believe what he had done just now.

Dave came back. It took him some time, but he came back; with brand new scars. Chris's dreams got worse, changing into some stupid story in which he saved Dave from the guys who had beaten him up, after which they made out and had sex. In reality, things were a lot more boring. Chris kept on buying the comics Dave was reading, and still could not find the courage to speak with him. And then, unexpectedly, Kick-ass arrived, putting everything into chaos.

Chris, being quite caught up in this whole superhero thing, was fascinated by Kick-ass. He couldn't believe someone had actually done it: put on a stupid suit and try to beat up some losers from the streets, and get away with it. People were all over this news. It was all the guys at the comic store could talk about. As usual, Chris didn't give in to his desire to sit down and talk with the others, and only listened from a small distance, with a comic in his hands. Sometimes, Kick-ass would even be a featured news item and would be on the tv in the store. He had seen Dave and his friends there once, watching it. Two girls had joined their small posse. Chris had grinned when he had figured out why Katie was sitting next to Dave. But there wasn't much time to consider Dave, his sexual orientation, his relationship with Katie and Chris's obsession for him. Before long, his dad was having meetings more often than before. He seemed to be in a lot of stress. He was very quiet at breakfast. Chris overheard an argument between him and his mother. In short, things weren't going well with his business. As usual, Chris wanted to know what was going on and learn how his dad ran his company, but his dad obviously didn't take him all that seriously. As if Chris didn't know what sort of goods his dad was trading. As if he didn't know how nasty it could get. The walls were thin, and Chris had understood soon enough, perhaps even at ten years old, what his dad's clever code words really meant. And since he had no significant talents or interests (other than comics and Dave), the only profession available to him was his father's. And if he would never make him his apprentice, what would he do? Where would he go? Next to that problem, he was sick of being talked to like a fucking six-year old. 'Why don't you go practise your martial arts, Chris?' 'Go and help your mom with diner, Chris.' In the bathroom, he would mimic what his dad had said to him, planning how he would respond the next time. Sadly, whenever he looked into his dad's eyes at a moment like that, he lost his will to argue against him, and just retreated to the gym or his room.

But after the incident of the murdered Kick-ass imposter, Chris just couldn't shut up any longer. His dad had thrown his bowl of cereal across the room, then running back to his office, swearing all the way. Chris had looked his mother in the eyes.

'Just leave him,' she said. 'He'll be alright.' But Chris saw she didn't believe that herself.

He got up and ran after his dad, where he explained how he _should_ be dealing with this Kick-ass. Not by shooting him through the head in open daylight, for god's sake, but by tricking him and making him walk into a trap. Awesome as the guy might be, he just couldn't let him ruin his dad's business and his family along with it. This was the perfect plan. Chris was sure of it. He had never wanted to do anything as badly as this. He had thrown his sketches (which he had made with help of a few _Spiderman_ and _Avengers_ issues after Kick-ass had made him think about what kind of a superhero he wanted to be himself) on his dad's desk, awaiting his reaction. He knew the outfit he had sketched for himself after he had heard of Kick-ass was a bit extreme, but hell, nobody would know it was him, right? When his dad gave a nod of approval, Chris's heart jumped. And this time, it wasn't a jump of tension and uncertainty; it felt a bit like excitement. It meant that he would get the suit. Even better: it meant that he would get the car. Holy shit, even thinking that his outrageously over the top request was about to be granted made him grin like an idiot. He was wondering what Kick-ass would be like. He wasn't too sure about the public appearance his dad had said he would have to make, though.

All his doubts disappeared the moment his suit was delivered. There was a knock on the door by one of the maids, and there was a package in front of his door. Chris jumped through his room, ripping the plastic off of the cardboard box. Then, when he found the gorgeous black mask on top of the outfit, his grin grew to ridiculous proportions and he couldn't stop staring at it. He put it on in front of his big closet mirror. The moment he looked himself in his dark-lined eyes, it was as though a new dimension was opening up for him, and everything in the world was within his reach. God_damn_, he looked incredible. As quickly as he could, he put on his suit and strapped himself up in his belt. The boots had come in a seperate box. The metal on them looked sickeningly cool. It was almost as if he was a real evil villain. The gloves were next, and god, when he gave himself a quick look in the mirror, he just couldn't believe this was him. The wig was a bit difficult to put on the right way, but after a few minutes of practise, Chris thought it wouldn't fall off anymore. But the cape was the finishing touch. It was official: he was a fucking _stud_. A mysterious emo boy, a goddamn vampire.

'Looking _good_,' he whispered to his reflection. 'Looking good.'

He stared at himself a little longer, but he forgot about it when his dad walked into the room without knocking. Without fear, he looked in his eyes. Whatever he would say about his superhero outfit, he would ignore it; he loved his new look and he would stand by it. There was nothing that could stop him from doing that interview tomorrow afternoon. But to his relief, his dad just nodded. It wasn't a happy nod, or a proud nod. But it was enough for Chris.

'The car's in,' was all that he said.

'You're kidding me!' Chris said happily, and ran downstairs without a second thought. He was glad his dad hadn't followed him to the parking lot, because Chris was hopping up and down, clapping his hands and screaming like a girl when he saw his brand new, shiny ride.

That night, in a good mood, he decided to go to the place where the hip people at school always went on Saturday. Of course, the _Mist Mobile_ was not to be revealed yet, so he had to leave it in its place in the guarded parking lot and let their driver take him there. He had been there before, but it was different tonight. As he fixed his shirt in the bathroom mirror, he actually felt really good about himself. He was more than just Frank D'Amico's loser son, more than a gay comic nerd. He knew it was wrong of him to think what was going through his mind right now, but he couldn't help it. Imagining holding Dave Lizewski close to his chest after saving his ass with the Mist Mobile was something he couldn't possibly have escaped from. Maybe he was here? Chris smiled at his silly thoughts. Well, he could dream. He walked out of the men's room, back into the loud noise of the dancefloor. It was a good night. Most of the guys in his year seemed to be there. Hey, wasn't that the dude with the glasses from Dave's gang? Damn. Just as he was going over the lines he would say to Dave, would he, by chance, find him here, his eyes found the familiar curls and the beloved glasses with a shock. But the lips he had kissed so often in his dreams were now gently touching the cheek of somebody else, a girl with long, brown hair: Katie.

There they were, standing against a wall, coloured lights flashing on and off. Standing perfectly still, feeling the earth crumble beneath his feet, Chris stared at his sweetheart, passionately making out with that skank, his hands on her hips. He was as tender as could be, kissing her so sweetly Chris was afraid he was going to throw up. He felt hot tears rolling out of his eyes as people walked in to him. He didn't even notice them.

The worst thing about it was that they looked so happy, so in love. They were almost glowing; their presence lighting up the entire room. There wasn't any doubt about it: this guy couldn't possibly like boys more than he liked girls. And now he had one of the best-looking girls at their school (according to the guys). Most likely, he would never even look at anybody else again. Let alone a fat, ugly, rich bastard like him. He had never been fit to be with Dave. He looked better with a small, slim, pretty girl by his side. What had he been thinking? Had he honestly believed Dave would have let him kiss him one day?

Dave was so beautiful in the blue light. Those soft curls and that small smile was the sight that made Chris lose it. He just couldn't take any more of this bullshit. Stumbling and nearly falling on his face, Chris was able to get out of there and get back on the street. He saw some classmates standing on the pavement, and as he ran through the door, they cast odd looks at him. Seeing them looking at him, Chris panicked and sped off into an alley. He breathed. For a long time, that was all he did, leaning against a wall. Big tears were falling on the ground, but he wasn't paying attention to them. He was afraid he was about to choke.

'Jesus, no,' he gasped. 'No. No...'

After half an hour of standing in that alley, that was still the only word he could vocalise. Feeling more dead than alive, he finally managed to text his driver, wiping his tears away, hoping the dark would make his red eyes invisible.

At three fifteen, he entered his room, and sank to his knees. He needed to be dramatic; needed to get through this. He needed to feel what had just happened to him, and feel terribly sorry for himself. This was the worst that could have happened to him. He deserved this self-pity. Rolled up like a ball on the floor, Chris cried his heart out, as quietly as he could; he didn't want his parents to know his heart had been broken that night. It wasn't until four o' clock that he remembered he needed to make a public appearance as Red Mist tomorrow.

Red Mist. How could he have forgotten him? In a sudden surge of energy, Chris jumped from the floor to put on his superhero outfit. Looking at himself in the mirror, practising some poses, he immediately felt a lot better. Screw Dave. Red Mist didn't need anyone.

'You are gorgeous,' he whispered. 'You are unstoppable.'

He pointed at an imaginary antagonist. 'And you're going down.'


	3. 3 Masks

3

Through the haze of shit Chris was in the following couple of days, Kick-ass's response to his myspace was the only good point. Red Mist's appearance on tv had been fucking awesome, and the media was covering it almost as extensively as they had done with Kick-ass. There had been a huge chance of Kick-ass hearing his call, and the same night, Kick-ass had agreed on meeting up with him. The next evening, Red Mist and Kick-ass would have a date, and Chris had been exercising his ass off in his dad's gym. He still was a total loser when it came to running, or push-ups, for that matter, but there was no denying he was damn good with nunchaku. For all that he knew, Kick-ass was an average kid. He had fought off these guys with cheap plastic sticks and he was wearing a scuba diving outfit anyone could buy online. Red Mist was already smiling as he realized how much more awesome he actually was. Except for the fact it hadn't been his idea. He had to admit it, he was only fit to be a sidekick; but he would be the best sidekick ever. Better than Robin. Better than fucking Pikachu.

Of course, when he was finally gonna meet Kick-ass for the first time, he managed to almost fall on his ass while jumping towards him. Luckily there wasn't anyone around but the dude in his green suit, and he didn't laugh at him – he had probably done the same multiple times, being just an average guy – and he didn't care. Holy shit – they were fucking awesome! In the street lights at night, their suits looked even better. Red Mist had the urge to high five his favourite internet phenomenon, but resisted. He had to keep his cool at least for a few minutes, so he could get Kick-ass to the set-up.

Get Kick-ass to the set-up? It sounded like a terrible idea, now that he thought about it. Okay, so maybe he was dangerous to his dad's business, but on the other hand, he was completely right to oppose it, wasn't he? If Chris hadn't been his father's son, he would have loved to join him in his operations against it. This was _Kick-ass_, a guy who had inspired millions of people all over the world to stand up for themselves and others. The first real-life superhero! What the hell was wrong with that? Who in his right mind would want to stop him? It was childish; it would spoil all the fun! Besides...

The first thing Chris noticed about Kick-ass, after the obvious green scuba suit and the fugly yellow shoes, was that he had great lips. Damn, he had to be careful not to stare at them too long. But as he directed his attention to his eyes, he was just as distracted. Beautiful, liquid-like blue eyes, accompanied by dark, strong eyebrows. Chris whistled through his teeth as he was leading Kick-ass to the Mist Mobile. He hadn't known the guy he was supposed to trap would be this hot, and realized he wasn't prepared. After a while, he noticed he was busy showing Kick-ass all the things the Mist Mobile could do, as if he was trying to impress a girl by driving past her on a motorcycle. Kick-ass seemed to be quite interested, and never said a word; giving Red Mist a considerable ego boost. _Showoff_, Chris said to himself, but he couldn't help demonstrating the mist function, hahahaha! Rolling to the venue, he found himself eyeing the hero in the green suit on his passenger's seat, as he was dancing like a loser to the songs on Chris's iPod. Everything about this was so unbelievable – Kick-ass liking his songs, him being in this emo outfit, people waving at them – he only wanted it to last as long as possible. The last thing he wanted was to do what he had set this whole thing up for.

It all turned out to end very differently from what Chris had had in mind. And for some reason, he didn't mind. His dad's henchmen might be dead, and the place had burned down in its entirety, but at least he hadn't betrayed Kick-ass. Well, that's what he told himself afterwards. When they were running through the burning building, and Chris had seen bloodied faces that looked oddly familiar on the floor, he had panicked a little. The only thing keeping him going was that he was Red Mist now, and Red Mist wouldn't give up on his sidekick. He even managed to do something that was a bit heroic and useful: finding that camera-teddybear that he had put there. Hey, he had wanted to see Kick-ass's real face, and besides, if he had done all this work for his dad, he was allowed to know how they would finish the job. He had also been afraid of what they might have done to him. But it was all useless now.

All he could hear was the intense noise the fire was making, and he hardly saw anything. When he realized there was nothing more he could do and it was time to get out of there, he couldn't see Kick-ass anymore. A sudden rush of adrenaline went through his veins, and he sped off to find him. Together, they ran out of the (now exploding) building, back where Chris had left the Mist Mobile.

'Who the hell were those people?' Kick-ass's voice sounded from behind him.

'No idea,' Chris lied. 'I guess we weren't needed anymore.'

'Yeah, you can say that again,' the self-made superhero said. 'So who do you think was behind this?'

Chris thought about that for a moment. 'We could go back to check it out?'

'Well, I'm not a fire expert. I don't think we can do much.'

'No, I guess you're right.'

They stepped in the car. Sirenes were faintly audible as Chris drove off, afraid the authorities might find them and would know who he was. He also didn't want to be found looking like Red Mist. He couldn't have Kick-ass knowing he wasn't cooperating with the police at all. He grinned sarcastically as he realized how low profile the Mist Mobile was.

Chris tried to get him back to the place where they had met as fast as possible. He nervously kept his eyes on the road, but looked at Kick-ass frequently, worried about him. Looking nothing like the awesome superhero he had been, he was staring out of the window. His eyes were red, and there was dirt on his scuba diving suit.

'Are you alright?'

Kick-ass chuckled. 'I'm fine. You know why? 'Cause you came back for me.'

With a bitter smile, Chris shrugged. 'We're partners, aren't we?'

'Red Mist, I owe you. I could never be as cool as you.'

'Don't start, man,' Chris protested, feeling more guilty than ever. 'You're Kick-ass. You started all this. You're the boss. I'm just a sidekick, really. And I happened to have money, that's all.'

He was rewarded with a beautiful smile from behind a green mask. 'Thanks. You're cooler than I thought.'

'So are you.'

For a short while, their eyes were locked, and when Red Mist's attention returned to the road, he felt something strange had happened. Holy crap...Kick-ass seemed to like him. This was great. Maybe they really_ could_ be partners, and fight crime together. The idea of running through the streets at his side sent a whirlwind of excitement through his body. Maybe he could convince his dad to stop hunting him. He wasn't dangerous. Chris just didn't believe it.

The streets were so quiet when they got out of the car that the sound of the closing doors seemed incredibly loud. They didn't say a word for a moment, probably because they both recognized how different this place felt now, after all this crazy shit had happened to them. What time was it? After midnight? Eleven?

'So,' Kick-ass mumbled, after he had set a few steps in the alley. 'This is it, then.'

Red Mist looked up, and knew, suddenly, that he didn't want to let him go just now. He seemed sad, and insecure, and he was worried about his health. Maybe he had breathed in too much smoke. He wanted to make sure he was okay. Chris took a deep breath, slowly approaching Kick-ass, who was standing with his back towards him, and put his hand on his shoulder.

'Hey.'

'Red Mist,' Kick-ass answered, turning around.

Whoa. _Whoa_. Wait. Kick-ass was looking at him with his big blue eyes, his lips slightly apart, and he looked... shy. In... in love. Even though it seemed like forever, the look only last half of a second, and Chris had no time to analyze the relationship between him and Kick-ass, or time to adjust to that intense look he was giving him. Before he saw it coming, Kick-ass had thrown his arms around his neck and his body, wrapped in that tight suit, was pressed against his chest. Chris gasped as there suddenly was a man in his arms; a beautiful man, whose name he didn't even know. What was going on? Was he thanking him? Was he crying on his shoulder? He tried to check his face without him noticing, and he guessed he wasn't, so what was up with him?

Kick-ass looked up to Chris, his expression unreadable to him. He wasn't sure what this boy wanted from him, but he knew he couldn't let this moment pass without taking advantage of it. Chris grabbed Kick-ass's shoulders and kissed him. It was all just like a hollywood scene as Kick-ass responded by licking his lips softly, after which Chris opened his mouth eagerly. No consequences, just a kiss. They didn't know who they really were, and he liked things that way. God, Kick-ass was incredible. Chris couldn't have wished for a better kiss to be his first. Encouraged by the boy's movements and increasingly heavy breathing, Chris let his hands wander carefully, exploring his body.

'Mist,' he heard Kick-ass whisper as he pushed him against one of the walls. 'Why is this so good?'

'You wanna go somewhere?' Chris asked.

'Yes,' Kick-ass said, and moaned as Chris pushed his hips against him. 'Go where?'

'Come on.'

They stepped back into the car, and Red Mist drove his Mist Mobile straight back home. It was cold outside, and he had the feeling he would be wanting some privacy in the near future, so he had picked the parking lot as their hideout. Okay, okay. It was fucking risky. He just couldn't let him go. To make things a tiny bit safer, he asked Kick-ass to pull his mask over his eyes so he wouldn't remember where he had been, and he did it without questions. By the time Chris arrived at the parking lot, his heart was completely out of control. He was hoping his dad wouldn't be checking on him, but he expected he would be busy cleaning up the mess the whole night and probably wouldn't come home until the morning, as he did now and then.

'Can I look now?'

'Yeah.'

Chris didn't give him time to let his eyes adjust. He was all over him, and he'd be damned if he'd still be a complete virgin before this night ended. Finding the right button with his hands, he switched on the red moodlight he had asked his dad to get installed, and put his tongue in Kick-ass's mouth once more. To his surprise, the question of how to take off that scuba suit without pulling his mask off of his head and revealing his lover's identity, suddenly became very important.

'You want me to take it off?' Kick-ass whispered.

'Well, yeah,' Chris answered.

Kick-ass's eyes shifted from left to right. 'Aren't there cameras in here?'

'If you stay low, they won't be able to record you.'

'Well... alright...'

Kick-ass crawled to the back of the Mist Mobile, where he somehow managed to take off the green suit. In the driver's seat, Red Mist was fumbling around with his own superhero suit. God, what was he doing? What were they about to do? Hm... he knew what he wanted.

It was a rather funny sight at first; a guy completely naked except for his green mask, but Chris forgot it all as soon as he took a good look at his body. This was serious. This dude had been working out before getting out on the streets. Kick-ass looked up to him, his face just a question mark, and Chris spread his arms to him. 'Come.'

Swiftly and easily, Kick-ass laid himself upon him, and for the first time in his life, Chris felt a man's naked, aroused body to his skin. It was so epic, he had almost cried.

The Mist Mobile wasn't particularly comfortable, but it had enough space to make this possible. Making out like they would never see each other again, they almost rolled off of the seat. 'Red Mist,' Kick-ass breathed in his ear. 'Please...'

'What do you want me to do?' Chris asked, not caring what it was, he would do anything.

'Blow me,' was his hardly audible answer. 'I'll do you afterwards.'

'And why do you get to be the first?' Chris smiled, already trying to position himself to grant Kick-ass's wish, sliding to the car floor carefully. 'I saved your life.'

''Cause I'm so hard,' he moaned. 'I need it... Aah,' he squeaked as as Chris's lips gently touched his cock. It was the perfect penis to Chris, he hadn't seen very many of them, but it looked just like what a penis should look like. He also had no idea of how to do this properly (because the porn way had never seemed right to him), but he figured he should just do to it what he would want to be done to it, had he been in Kick-ass's position. It seemed to work. He was becoming noisier every ten seconds, and his hands were grasping the car seat so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

'Mist,' he groaned after a few minutes. 'I'm...I...can't hold it any longer.'

Chris didn't answer. He just waited for Kick-ass to shudder and scream out loud. He took a look at what Chris was doing to him, and the sight made him close his eyes and scream again.

'_Fuck_,' he yelled. 'Fuck, you're swallowing it, god-damn!'

Chris wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled. 'Well of course.'

'Fuck... You're unreal.' Slowly, his breathing returned to a normal pace. 'She never does that,' Chris thought he heard him mumble to himself.

He waited patiently. He watched his partner as he regained himself, not moving an inch, staring at the guy who was very clearly still enjoying himself because of what he had just done to him.

'What are you smiling about,' Kick-ass whispered as he lifted his head.

'You're cute,' Chris whispered, hardly believing they had reached a stage in which he could say these words to him, while they had only met for the first time hours ago.

'Okay,' the face behind the green fabric smiled. 'It's my turn.'

Chris's heart skipped a beat because he had already forgotten all about that part. Quietly obliging Kick-ass's soft directions, he sat down on the passenger's seat. The seat felt kinda weird against his naked skin. How often in a lifetime do you sit down on a car seat when you're naked? This was rare in many, many ways. Because Kick-ass's hands were gently pushing him into the seat, Chris was able to relax and lay down.

'I hope the mask won't be a problem...' Kick-ass said to himself. 'You know what, I'll put it like this...'

Chris wasn't even interested in seeing more of that pretty face anymore. He had passed that stage; he could feel his mouth, and he was going to, and that was all that mattered to him. That's why he thought he would faint the moment he felt those lips around his erection. Oh, _god_. The feeling was just insane. It was probably because Kick-ass's lips were so full and big, and his tongue was so warm. Jesus, he shouldn't think about his warm tongue. To think he had had it in his mouth just a few minutes ago... he felt he was already losing some fluid, and just couldn't bring himself to stop doing it.

'Sorry,' he mumbled.

'It's okay,' Kick-ass answered quietly and continued his operation. And at some point, Chris simply reached out to him and grabbed him by his mask, desperately trying to convey how much he wanted this not to stop. He felt like a mindless animal. All of his thoughts and common sense seemed to disappear and the center of his existence was relocated to the tip of his cock, where Kick-ass was sucking it all out of him. It was so intense. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew where they were, and how many cameras were in the parking basement, but the feeling Kick-ass's mouth was giving him had simply taken over. How did this work? It felt like millions of nerves were on overload, shooting messages to his brains like fucking machine guns. Shit, he was going out, he felt his conscience slipping away from him. In a surge of madness, he grabbed Kick-ass's mask once again, until he finally realized he was having an orgasm. He had been in it for seconds before his mind had even been able to grasp it.

'Aaaargh,' was what came out of his mouth when he gave in to it and dropped himself in the stream. Trying to breathe, he gasped and gasped, hoping he wasn't hurting Kick-ass. His feet were in some sort of spasm- in fact, his entire body was- and he continued to shoot everything he had in Kick-ass's throat. Dizzy as hell, he felt his mind fall back into his body, slowly connecting again. For a delicious minute, he was lying on his seat with his eyes closed. This. Was. Great. It was like he was underwater or something.

'I can't believe we just did that,' Kick-ass's voice sounded from outside of his dreams.

'You are amazing,' was all Chris could mumble. 'You are amazing and I fucking love you.'

'I don't even know who you are.'

The sudden earnestness of Kick-ass's voice struck Chris like a meteor. It was a legit point. They had just had oral sex with an almost complete stranger. Then why didn't it seem wrong to Chris at all? Maybe he was just a sex-crazy idiot? Chris smiled to himself. It was because it only made it better. Look at them, anonymous superheroes, making love in a supercar. This was the best thing ever. If this had been in a comic, he would have bought it the second it was published.

'You don't need to know, Kick-ass,' he whispered as he put his arms around him.

'Maybe I don't,' Kick-ass smiled. 'It just seems strange.'

'You'll be my secret,' Chris said. 'And nobody else will know, because I don't know who you are. It's easier this way. I don't need to know your name or your face. It doesn't mean anything after this.'

'I know,' Kick-ass said. 'I just wished I knew your name.'

'Can we do this again some time?' Chris dared ask, pulling him in for a kiss.

'I don't know, Red Mist. Who knows when we'll meet again.'

'I'll leave you a message on your myspace.'

'Alright.'

After getting their suits back on in the narrow car, he dropped him off at their meeting spot, still half in a daze. Kick-ass looked over his shoulder as he walked away, his beautiful blue eyes faintly visible in the light of the street lanterns.

'Until next time, Red Mist.'

'Until next time, baby.'

He watched him until he disappeared from his sight. Then he closed the window and drove home.

Tuesday, the 25th of May, 2010

11.09 PM


End file.
